


The Take-Away Game

by interabang



Category: Would You Rather (2012)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/pseuds/interabang
Summary: Iris escapes from the Lambricks’ game with Cal, Lucas, and Dr. Barden, only to realize they’re not finished playing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at the movie’s one-hour mark.
> 
> There is an M/F ship - Lucas/OFC, who will be introduced in the next chapter - however, it's not the focus of this fic, which is why I also tagged it as Gen.

_“Can you run?”_

It takes Iris a second to realize what Lucas is asking her. This is their chance, their only chance out of this first-class hellhole and, despite her throbbing stab wound and rattled nerves, she nods.

He only waits for a few seconds, and then —

“ _Now_!”

It happens so quickly that her brain slows to a crawl so it can process everything:

Lucas and Cal jump up from the table first, Lucas getting bodychecked by a guard and held down against the table, until Cal whips the guard in the back, hard, with the _sjambok_.

The guard cries out and crumples to the ground, and Lucas is on his feet again. Iris stumbles on her heels as she runs toward the parlor door. She can see the space between the door just yards in front of her, the sliver of freedom beckoning with a faint glow.

She glances behind her.

Lucas is on top of Bevans, but after throwing a punch, Bevans calmly reaches a hand up to choke Lucas, and Iris can already see the pressure weakening him.

The first guard, the one Cal had whipped, marches up to her, blocking her line of sight from Lucas and Bevans. Iris strikes out with her hand at the guard, then pulls it back.

The guard groans, stares at her, and looks at his right shoulder.

The ice pick is sticking out from it.

Iris gasps, the world still moving around her like molasses. She doesn’t even remember grabbing the ice pick.

The guard crumples to the floor, and through her hazy vision, pounding heart and stab wound, Iris can dimly see Lucas and Cal walking toward her: Lucas clutching his throat and Cal holding the whipping stick. Behind them, Amy and Peter back up against the plastic-covered wall of their side of the room, frozen in place with fright. Shepard stands all the way at the back of the room, shouting and getting behind his chair, and Iris can barely register the bright shock of Julian’s hair as he disappears under the table.

Lucas and Cal are shouting something at her, but she can barely hear them.

She knows what they’re saying, though.

She turns, slides the door open, and the three of them burst out of the dining room together.

Real time catches up with Iris, but in a blur. They’re in the main hall, and just across from them is the sitting room where they’d met just hours ago. Iris blinks as Cal heads toward the front door but Lucas pulls him back, shouting, “It’s probably locked, we need to find another —”

A shot rings out and strikes the wall in front of them, right where Cal had been heading, and Iris screams.

Then runs.

And runs, with Lucas and Cal, past ornate wooden walls and decadent oil paintings. There’s shouting behind them, and another crack of gunfire.

More doors and hallways. _It’s like a maze in here_ , she thinks. She stumbles on her heels through the Lambricks’ labyrinth, and she crashes down on the thick, painstakingly designed carpet.

And she tells herself then that it’s over. Her shoes are dooming herself, Cal, and Lucas with a shitty horror movie cliché. They’ll be caught, dragged back to the table and forced to keep playing until they’re killed off, one by one, and —

“Iris!”

Hands grasp her by the shoulders and haul her back to her feet; she's off again, running at double speed, gulping for breath until Lucas pushes open a door and waves both her and Cal through it, looking behind them.

Clutching her stab wound and catching her breath, Iris can see that they’re in a wide-open laundry room. Lucas quietly shuts the door behind them and there aren’t any gunshots, so they must have given Bevans the slip - but probably not for long.

Iris crouches down and slips off her heels. She’s panting, her head and veins are still pumping with adrenaline, but her vision is clearing and she’s starting to regain a fleeting strand of hope.

“We can’t stay here long,” Lucas whispers, bending down as well so he can’t be seen through the window of the door, and Cal nods, following suit.

Iris takes a quick scan of their surroundings, but there’s not much to see, other than a stainless steel counter, a sink, some washer and dryers, and…

Iris’s hands fly up to her mouth, clamping down around another hoarse scream.

There are three body bags sitting propped up against the far wall of the laundry room. Adjacent to them, there’s another door, which Iris guesses leads to the basement.

Her gaze shifts back to one of the body bags leaning against a counter.

On top of the counter, there's a large stack of cash. 

Narrowing her eyes, Iris can make out that some of the bills are stained with the conspiracy theorist's blood and brain matter.

_Five thousand for this steak and decadent foi gras - make it ten thousand._

_Fifty thousand dollars if you will drink this decanter of the finest scotch money can buy._

Iris’s stomach roils at the recall.

“What the fuck,” Cal whispers. “Can’t believe they’re leaving this all out here like this.”

“My purse,” Iris says, suddenly. It’s back in the parlor, along with everyone else’s belongings before they started the game. Her wallet, keys, and phone are still back there.

Along with her mother’s compact mirror.

 _Keep it_ , she’d told Iris the morning she’d gone off to college. _You use it more than I do._

“Yeah, all our stuff’s back there,” Cal says, cutting into Iris’s thoughts.

Lucas’s eyes are on the door. “We can’t risk going back.  Let’s focus on getting out of here.”

“My wallet’s back there, man. My grandad gave it to me. Doesn’t feel right to just leave it behind.”

“Look, I know it’s important to you, but even if we managed to grab our stuff, there’s no _way_ we’d be fast enough to make it past the guards again.”

“Then I’ll provide a distraction,” Cal whispers, holding up the whipping stick he’d grabbed from the table. “I’ll hold off the guards while you —”

“— I’m telling you, it’s a suicide mission. We’ll come back for the wallet, I promise.”

“How d’you know they won’t chuck all our stuff if we make it out of here?”

As they argue in whispers, Iris clutches her heels in one hand and, hunched over, pads forward on the cold marble floor, her breath shaky as she heads toward the far side of the laundry room. She keeps her eyes fixated on the pile of cash, telling herself, _Don’t look at the bodies_ over and over, and as she reaches one arm out, she hears her name hissed out behind her.

She pauses, turning to look past her shoulder. Cal and Lucas are on their hands and knees near the door they’d come in, looking utterly shocked.

“What are you doing?” Cal mouths.

“It’s okay,” she mouths back, and straightens up to take the money.

Her eyes fall on the body bag leaning just inches away from her, and her heart thuds in her throat.

It remains motionless, a thin sheet of plastic covering a wan-looking face that Iris knows she will never forget.

 _Travis, I’m so sorry_.

Then the door near her slams open, and Iris stares right into the hole of a gun barrel.

“Iris?”

She sobs, her hands held up as her heels lay forgotten on the floor next to Travis’s feet. The gun lowers and she clutches onto her side, where it stings the most, and both Lucas and Cal run clear across the room toward her.

“Woah, who are you?”

The gun goes up again, briefly, until Iris says in gasps, “It’s okay, Dr. Barden, they’re with me.”

“Do you know how to get out of here?” Lucas asks, skipping formalities.

As Iris gathers up the cash in her arms, Dr. Barden jerks his head behind the door he’d slammed open. “There’s an open window in the basement, near the boiler.”

He motions for Iris to go first, and she heads down the stairs, leaving her shoes behind.

Cal follows behind her, then Lucas. As Iris makes it down the flight of steps, a sharp cracking sound echoes through the air above her, and she stops in her tracks, turning to look up at the of the staircase.

Dr. Barden isn’t there.

“Go, go, go! To the window!”

Iris doesn’t know who’s talking, but it doesn’t matter. Her mind flips onto automatic, and she runs down the only hallway. It’s dark and musty and industrial down here, a far cry from the pristine, elegant woodwork upstairs.

But at the end of this hallway, she can see it.

The open window.

It’s high, but she can reach it. She breaks toward it at a desperate sprint, clutching the wads of bills so tightly she can barely feel her hands, and as she nears the window, catching a glimpse of the starry night sky, she —

“Gotcha!”

“Iris!”

Julian slams into her from the side, pressing her against the wall. She twists into it as air is squeezed out from her lungs, and a stack of bills drops to the ground. She can faintly hear another resounding _crack_ , and Julian’s weight eases off of her. She pushes herself away from the wall with her arm and draws in a few raspy breaths, looking down at Julian.

There’s a faint red gash across his back and he curls into himself as she stares down at him, whimpering in pain.

Cal, still holding the _sjambak_ , nods coldly down at Julian.

“Yeah,” Cal sneers, “not so fun when you’re on the receiving end of this, huh?”

“Go, go!” Lucas shouts behind them, his voice hoarse. Iris passes the stacks of cash to Cal and finds enough strength within her to pull herself up toward the window.

She crawls up toward blissfully cool, open air, and coughs as she hauls herself up and out of the basement, her stomach still throbbing but otherwise intact. Ignoring it, she turns and immediately reaches her arms out to whomever is starting up after her.

Cal grasps onto her hands and they both groan with the exertion of getting him out through the window. A wad of cash slips out of his pants pockets and Iris snatches it up as Cal turns to help lift Lucas out of the window. It’s a lot tougher helping him up through the window, but when Iris also tugs at Lucas’s arms, he eventually ends up on the grass too, resting on his stomach and panting.

Panic starts to bubble up in Iris’s throat again as she asks, “Where’s Dr. Barden?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas says, then coughs as he rises to his feet. “Someone opened the other door just as I started to go downstairs.”

“Probably Bevans,” Cal says, and Iris hands him back the cash that had fallen out of his pocket. He stuffs it back in and leans toward the open window, checking to see if anyone is following them.

“What are we gonna do if Dr. Barden doesn’t come out?” Iris asks, pressing her hand over her stab wound. Lucas takes a small stack of bills from Cal and gently nudges her hand away so he can press the money against her bloodstained dress. She can’t help but stare at him incredulously for a moment, and she notices Cal is staring at him too.

He shrugs. “Hey, it’s better than nothing. And as for your friend, I think we could —”

“—   _Fuck you_!”

Dr. Barden pokes his head up through the window as Julian curses out of Iris’s line of sight. Barden’s hands grip at the sides of the windowsill and Iris gasps, dropping down to hold out her hand for him to take. Lucas reaches down to take Barden’s left hand, and Barden’s half-way through the window when Iris starts to sense hope swell within her. They’re going to make it out, they’re going to be free.

Barden suddenly gets yanked almost all the way back through the window, and Iris screams.

She doubles down her grip on his hand before it slips away from hers, and she grits out between her teeth, “Cal… Grab onto me. Lucas, when I say, ‘One,’ loosen your grip for less than a second. When I say, ‘Two,’ pull back as far as you can.”

“Wait, what? Loosen your _what_?” Cal repeats, but he wraps his arms around Iris’s stomach, keeping the stack of cash firmly against her wound.

“No, she’s right,” Lucas says quickly. “Okay.”

Luckily, Dr. Barden’s hands are wrapped around Iris’s and Lucas’s wrists. It would give them just enough room for slack. Iris digs her heels into the grass as Dr. Barden is steadily pulled backward into the boiler room, groaning in frustration. Julian laughs behind him, still out of sight.

“Dr. Barden,” Iris says, and she can see his twisted, pained expression change as he looks up at her. “We’re gonna get you out. I promise.

“One.”

She, Lucas and Cal all let go for half a second, and Dr. Barden cries out from under them as his hands slide down the wrists he’d been clinging to for life. Julian nearly screams with delight at his good fortune.

“Two!” Iris yells, and Cal drags her backward as she grabs Dr. Barden’s hand around his four fingers and tugs on him with all her might. Beads of sweat gather around her temple as she heaves, and she can barely hear Julian cry out in shock as Barden slips out of his grasp, pulled up and out onto the ruined patch of lawn grass.

His legs land on the soil, bloody twenty-dollar bills scattered on parts of it, but his momentum carries over onto Iris and Lucas, and together, all four of them land in a twisted heap in front of the open window.

“ _Fuck you all_! _”_ Julian rages from down below. “We’re gonna find you. We’ll bring you back, all you little piggies. And when we put you back at that table, you’ll _wish_ you never left.”

Iris can only lie panting on the ground, her wound throbbing in time with her racing heartbeat. For a moment, she can’t think or move, much less come up with something to say.

Dr. Barden does, though.

“Oh, shut up, Julian.”

 

* * *

 

 

Iris’s bare feet squash soft grass and dirt, hard, pinching gravel, then stone slabs.

She blocks out the throbbing wound in her side and focuses on the money in her arms and her breathing; jagged and labored as it is, it’s a solid reminder that she’s still alive, and has a fighting chance.

She sprints with the others, out of the elegant courtyard, through the hedges, around the twists and bends in the road, and finally, after climbing over some hedges, she sees the most beautiful thing she’d seen since this whole mess started:

Dr. Barden’s car.

“Wait.” He spreads his arm out in front of Iris, before she can take another step forward. She watches him scan the street, then take out his gun from his pocket and look around one more time. The back road he’s parked on is still and dark, the only sound Iris can hear – aside from everyone’s heavy breathing – are crickets idly chirping in the distance.

“Someone look under the car,” Dr. Barden whispers, raising his gun out toward their only means of a getaway as he continues scanning the area. Cal groans as he bends down, looks for a couple seconds, then gets back up, shaking his head and mouthing, “No one there.”

“Okay. Everyone in, quickly.” Keeping his right hand on the gun, Dr. Barden quickly reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his key fob, and his car lights up, unlocked.

Iris, Lucas, and Cal step forward, but Lucas gently nudges Iris and Cal forward even farther when they get to the car doors.

“Get in the back,” he tells them, opening the door for Iris to slide in behind the passenger’s seat.

“You’re calling shotgun _now_?” Cal whispers as he climbs in after Iris while she piles the cash in the middle seat and then buckles her seatbelt.

“It’s safer in the back.”

“ _How_?” Cal hisses.

“Just trust me on this!” Lucas closes the passenger door after sliding into the seat just as Dr. Barden opens his door.

As he turns on the ignition, Iris lets out a long, shaky sigh of relief.

They’re getting out of there. They don’t have to play the game anymore. What’s more, Iris has got enough money to help Raleigh, at least for the time being.

Then the memory of the ice pick sliding into her flesh jolts her back into the present, which is much more hopeful, but still agonizing.

“Iris? How’s your stomach?” Lucas asks as if sensing her pain, glancing back at her while Dr. Barden reverses the car, then starts driving down the small, empty road, his headlights turned off.

“It’s fine,” she half-lies.

“Keep pressing on it. Tight, okay?” Lucas moves back to face Dr. Barden. “She’s been stabbed. Lower right abdominal. Doesn’t seem to have hit any organs.”

“I saw it,” Dr. Barden says grimly, looking up at Iris through the rearview mirror. “You’re very lucky, Iris. We’ll take a look at it later, but for now, we’ve got to focus on getting out of here. Can you hang on for another hour or so?”

She nods.

“Other than that, are all of you okay?”

Iris and the others nod.

“Good. Is anyone following us?”

Call peeks out the rear window. “No.”

Iris closes her eyes in relief.

“Wait, yes, someone is! Holy _shit,_ get down! He’s got a gun, he’s aiming right at —”

Iris’s eyes fly back open as a shot rings out behind them, and she screams as the car swerves to the side.  Dr. Barden twists the wheel, causing the tires to screech in protest against the pavement as Iris and Cal get into the crawlspace and huddle there, Cal covering her as she sobs.

When the car finally rights itself, they lift themselves up onto the backseat, first Cal, then he helps Iris settle back into a comfortable sitting position. Her stomach isn’t bleeding anymore, but she still feels tired.

“Hey, Iris?” Lucas calls out to her, sounding much further away than the front seat. “Don’t go to sleep, all right?”

 _Okay_ , she thinks, but when she opens her mouth, nothing more than an exhausted groan comes out.

From far away, she hears Dr. Barden say tersely that they need to split up.

Both Cal and Lucas protest at the same time, their words overlapping each other’s, but Iris is coherent enough to notice Dr. Barden’s hands clench on the steering wheel. “Look, I don’t have time for arguments,” he says. “I’ve played the same game you did. I know how Lambrick operates.”

“You… You what?” Cal asks, his voice hoarse.

Iris’s vision swims, getting darker around the edges. She’s not sure whether that’s due to her blood loss, or Dr. Barden’s confession.

“You’ve played before?” she asks in a barely audible whisper.

There’s a long stretch of silence, with Iris, Cal and Lucas staring at the man who had just rescued them all, and Dr. Barden runs his right hand over the scar on his face and mutters, “Yes.”

Iris swallows, her throat so dry that she knows everyone can hear the clicking sound.

“Well, we can – we can talk about that later,” Lucas says, “but right now, we’ve gotta call the police! And Iris needs to get to a hospital!”

“I’m sorry, but those are both out of the question. We’re on our own.”

Lucas slumps down in the front seat, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his suit jacket.

Iris closes her eyes for a moment, just a moment, and then Raleigh’s face slowly takes form in front of her. Her mouth forms the syllables to say his name, but she can’t quite give them voice. She tries to say his name, tell him she’s coming, that she’s going to take care of him, and…

“Iris,” Cal says, gently nudging her awake. “We’re at your place.”

Her eyes snap open, and this time, she's _too_ wide awake.

“I’m dropping you off here,” Dr. Barden says from the front seat, talking to Lucas. “We’ll rendezvous at the place I told you. Until then, remember what I said: no police, no calls, no nothing.”

“Why won’t the police help us?” Cal asks.

Dr. Barden turns around in his seat, levels his gaze at Cal, and says, “They can’t help us. And you’re coming with me.”

“What? Why can’t I go with them?”

“If we’re going to split up, it’s better if we go in pairs. I’ll need someone to help me carry some things, and if Iris runs into any trouble, Lucas will help her.” He shoots a pointed look over at Lucas.

“I will,” Lucas says, nodding. He turns to Iris. “That okay with you?”

She’d rather they all stay together, but she says, after a moment, “Okay, fine.”

“Be careful,” Cal says, and both he and Lucas reach out their hands to bump their fists together.

“Yeah, you too. We’ll see you.”

“Go around the back, just in case. Good luck,” Barden says, and drives off, Cal twisting around in the backseat to look at them through the windshield.

Iris watches him until the car rounds the corner.

Minutes later, she opens the back door and they go up the steps. She hears a creak in the house and freezes, her heart feeling like it's going to burst up and out of her throat.

“It’s okay,” Lucas mouths, and leads the way up the stairs. Before going in, he’d insisted on her bandaging up and getting her things together before waking up Raleigh, so, against all her better wishes, Iris heads toward what used to be her parents’ room and was now hers.  After hurriedly rinsing off her wound in her bathroom with Lucas standing watch outside, Iris swaps disinfectant on it and tapes a bandage over the slowly congealing hole.

She steps out and Lucas continues keeping watch as she stuffs some clothes, sneakers, a picture of her family, and the money from the Lambrick house all in the backpack she’d brought from college. She gingerly pulls a gray sweatshirt over her dress and dons her running shoes. Her hair up in a bun, she glances at the mirror before joining Lucas at the bedroom door, her outfit a complete 180 from a few hours ago.

Iris feels like much more time has passed.

“Well,” she whispers, forcing a grin to calm her hammering heart, “How do I look?”

“Alive,” he says, but he smiles a bit in return.

“That’s as good a compliment as any. Okay, time to wake up Raleigh.” Knowing Raleigh, as Iris does, he’s probably passed out in a heap on top of his covers, video game still clutched in his hand.

As they head toward his room, Iris whispers that Lucas should grab some things from Raleigh’s closet and put it in a bag.

She swiftly heads toward Raleigh’s bed and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Raleigh,” she says, speaking just above a whisper, “Raleigh, wake up. I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta go.”

He doesn’t move.

“Raleigh, look, I know this is sudden, but —” Iris says, turning Raleigh over to face her.

And she screams.

And screams.

His face is pale, his skin cold, and there’s something white at the corner of his mouth. But the thing that scares Iris most of all is the empty bottle of pills lying next to him on the bed.

Iris barely registers Lucas coming up beside her, and when he pries her hands off her brother’s shoulders, she suddenly realizes that she’s still screaming, that she’s crying, and she clamps her hands over her mouth, bottling up her shuddering sobs.

Like walking through molasses, she backs away from her brother as Lucas calls out, “Raleigh. Raleigh, can you hear me?”

He doesn’t answer. Fresh tears prick at Iris’s eyes.

_What did you do, Raleigh? What did you do?_

_What have_ I _done?_

“Iris. _Iris._ ”

She snaps out of her daze.

Lucas is looking at her, looking more somber than he had at any point throughout the dinner.

“Call 911,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says, glad for something to do. “Yeah, okay, I can do that.”

As she runs to her room – her _parents’_ room – and grabs the phone, dials, and gives the operator directions to her house, a small voice tells her to stop. Hang up. _This is dangerous_ , it whispers.

“This is my _brother_ ,” she says aloud, to the horrible voice in her head.

“Then we'll do our best to help him,” a calm voice tells her, not knowing she was talking to herself. “The paramedics are on their way. Please stay on the line with me until they get there. Can you see him?”

“No. He’s in his room. I can’t bring the phone over there.”

“Is someone else with him?”

 _Dangerous_ , the voice in Iris’s head repeats, sounding like Lambrick, and she says, “Yes.”

“Okay,” the woman tells her, “go back to your brother, but leave the phone off the hook in case you need to come talk to me again. ETA is four minutes.”

Iris swallows thickly. “Four minutes is a long time.”

“I know, ma’am. They’ll be there as soon as they can.”

Iris slowly lowers the phone onto her bed, turning the phone on its side. Slowly, she makes her way back to her brother’s room, dreading the worst. Imagining Lucas sitting on the side of the bed, averting his mournful eyes from hers as her brother’s body lies on its side, cold and still.

When she gets back, though, Lucas is administering CPR.

She watches him as though she’s walking through a dream.

As Lucas breaths, then waits, then breathes into Raleigh’s mouth, calling his name, she remembers.

She remembers how Raleigh used to run in the backyard with sparklers on the 4th of July. The yearly trips to Niagra Falls, how Raleigh spread his arms up on the ferry ride and let the water rush over them. How she pointed out the way the light fell on the falls, creating a multitude of rainbows. That time she begged Raleigh to teach her how to skateboard, and the look of surprised pride on his face when she flipped it over for the first time – then landed right on her ass after tripping over it.

How he let her run her hand over his head when he’d first gotten it shaved.

Lucas presses down on his stomach, and Raleigh coughs, deep and coarse.

“ _Yes!_ ” Lucas shouts.

“Oh, my God, thank God,” Iris gasps, her hand on her chest, willing her heart to stop racing so she can avoid being forced into the ER too. She starts taking an automatic step forward, but then remembering to keep her distance.

She can still only watch as Lucas turns Raleigh over onto his side, coughing so hard until he vomits.

“Idiot,” she whispers as tears fall down her face. “Idiot, you’re such an idiot.”

She realizes after a while, that she’s saying that to herself.

“He needs to get to the emergency room, fast,” Lucas says, standing up. “It doesn’t look good. Iris. I’m sorry, but we can’t take him with us.”

She nods. “The paramedics are coming. They should be here any minute now.”

“Good,” Lucas says, and Raleigh groans.

“I know,” Iris says, brushing past Lucas to pat her brother’s back, even though she knows he’s not aware enough to hear her. “It’s gonna be okay, Raleigh.”

 

* * *

 

 

The paramedics get Raleigh onto a stretcher in record time.  Fiddling with the straps of her backpack, Iris wonders if they’re suddenly going to point guns at her and Lucas and order them back to Lambrick's table.

But, to her surprise, they don’t.

One of the paramedics turns toward Lucas and she jumps a little as he asks, “Are you family?”

“I am,” Iris says.

“Are you coming? He’s breathing, but we have to get him to the ER now, ma’am. You can follow us or come along.” The EMT flicks his eyes toward Lucas. “Family members only.

“I’ll follow in my car,” she says, then turns to face Lucas as the EMT shuts the door and the ambulance peels off down the street, lights flashing. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I have to go to the hospital. You can go ahead and meet up with Cal and Dr. Barden. Get as far away from you can. Go back to Iowa.” She shifts her backpack around and unzips the largest compartment. “Here, I’ll give you some of the money so you can get on the first flight back.”

He gently puts his hand over hers, zipping the money back in and guiding it back around her shoulders. “No. I’m going with you. We’ve made it this far without getting caught. We’ll make sure Raleigh’s okay, then we’ll both meet up with Barden and Cal, together. Okay?”

Iris nods. “All right.”

_TWHIP!_

A clod of dirt bursts up from the lawn, spraying onto her sneakers.

Iris would have screamed, if she could. What comes out of her mouth instead is a horrible, rasping sound.

“Get down!” Lucas quickly puts his arm around her and hustles her to the car as they bend at the waist.

Time doesn’t slow down for Iris like it did during the escape. Instead, it passes in quick snapshots:

She sees a figure in the bushes pointing a gun at Lucas.

She tackles Lucas to the grass as a bullet whizzes by and cries out for help.

After about twenty seconds of silence, Lucas whispers to Iris to get up and run, head down, as fast as she can to her car. “Do you have your keys?”

“Um, yeah,” she says, still disoriented but finding it easier to track events, letting her adrenaline fuel her, keep her stable and ultimately, alive.

“Okay, go!”

They run across the lawn, ducking, Lucas covering Iris from behind.

“You drive,” she says, handing him her spare car key and in a split second it dawns on her just how much she trusts both him and Cal after just having met them a few hours ago. But her side aches when she draws in a breath and she knows she’s nowhere near collected enough to drive, mostly due to the repeated mantra of _Raleigh Raleigh Raleigh_ hammering away in her head.

Lucas starts up the car just as another shot rings out into the night, cracking the rearview mirror on Iris’s side.

She doesn’t scream this time.

“Shit! Iris, keep your head down!” Lucas says as he backs into the driveway, and she hunches forward, hugging onto the backpack she’d set on her knees

When she hears footsteps running up to the car, she starts to sob again, but before she can even start to picture being shot to death in front of her own home – the home her parents left for her and Raleigh – Lucas wrenches the gearshift and slams his foot on the pedal.

They jerk forward as the car reverses at full speed down the driveway, and the car suddenly, violently collides with the hooded figure racing right toward them.

The figure doesn’t even make a sound as the car knocks him to the side. Iris jerks her head up, looking into the cracked rearview mirror.

“Lucas!” she cries out as he jumps out of the car and runs over to the figure, sprawled out on the pavement and not moving. Lucas grabs a heavy-looking black object – Iris doesn’t know much about guns, but she’s pretty sure it’s a sniper rifle – lying next to the figure, and sprints back to the driver’s seat.

“What are you doing?” Iris asks as he slams the door shut, holding the rifle out to her as he yanks the seatbelt over him with his free hand.

“Getting protection,” he says grimly, and Iris takes the gun like it’s a bomb. He puts the car into drive to peel out and away from her house.  

“I don’t even know how to fire a gun,” she says, staring at it like it's going to turn itself around and shoot her.

“Well, let’s hope you won’t have to,” Lucas says, and she can tell he's trying his best to sound comforting even though his mind is probably racing just as much as hers is, his heart likely pounding so hard it's in danger of giving out altogether. Iris catches his gaze when he glances at her and she offers her own bit of comfort in a smile.

Then she remembers Raleigh, and asks, her hands clenching tightly around the rifle, “Do you think they took him to the Lambrick mansion?”

Lucas doesn’t say anything for a long while. He focuses on the street. Iris can see his eyes darting around, probably trying to see if there’s anyone else following them. They seem like they’re in the clear.

“I don’t think so,” he finally says, just when Iris thinks he won’t answer her. “But you do know we can’t go to the hospital anymore, right?”

“I know,” she says, her entire body numb, her throat raw from screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

With everything that’s been happening tonight, Iris almost expects to see Lambrick standing at the rendezvous point Barden had told Lucas, a small parking lot near a hiking trail.

Her relief is indescribable when she sees Dr. Barden standing next to his car’s trunk, and Cal getting out of the backseat as Lucas pulls up in the nearby parking space.

“Here,” Barden says as soon as Iris gets out of her seat, opening up his trunk and revealing three large backpacks “I packed as much as I could.”

“Iris?” Cal asks when he sees that her eyes are still puffy and red from crying. “What’s wrong?”

“My brother…” she says, then swallows thickly. Dr. Barden quickly uncaps a bottle of water from the trunk and hands it to her. “Thank you.” She says after swallowing it down, cool and crisp. She can still taste the steak and blood. “He tried to overdose while I was gone.”

Dr. Barden’s eyes widen in horror. “My God,” he whispers.

“Lucas revived him,” she says quickly, casting him a grateful smile as she caps the water bottle. “But we had to call an ambulance. We _had to_ , Dr. Barden.”

“Please,” he says, holding up a hand that Iris realizes she’s relieved to see is shaking a bit. “Don’t call me ‘Doctor,’ especially since I’m just like the rest of you now. You can call me James.”

“The paramedics came and stabilized him,” Lucas says. “They took him and we were about to follow them to the hospital, but someone started firing at us.”

“Shit,” Dr. – _James_ mutters, “that happened much faster than I thought it would.”

“So it’s true,” Cal says, his voice sounding as hollow as Iris feels. “Lambrick’s got eyes everywhere.”

“Yes, well, here he doesn’t. I made a point to keep this area off the record.” Barden grabs a couple backpacks from the trunk and hands them to Lucas and Cal.

“What are they going to do to Raleigh?” Iris asks.

She stares directly at James. For someone who’d been so patient and caring, she’d never thought she’d see so much intensity and focus in his eyes.

Then his gaze softens, and he says, “Lambrick doesn’t touch family members. Ever. His focus is always on the players, so your brother is in safe hands.”

“As much as he can be, for now,” Iris says. Part of her suddenly wants to go back. Go back to the mansion, take her seat at the table, and finish the game.

“We can figure out what to do about Raleigh later, but we have to take care of ourselves first. I know you’ve all got reasons why you sat down at that table, just like I did, but if we screw up, make one wrong move…”

“Then it's game over,” Lucas finishes.

James nods. “Got everything from your car?”

“Almost.” Lucas steps away to rummage around in the passenger seat of Iris's car, holding the rifle Iris had left leaning against the dashboard. It's only then that she realizes she probably should have brought it out of the car with her, and she chastises herself for being so careless.

“Woah, man,” Cal says, backing away a little. “Where’d you get that?”

Lucas checks the chamber, quietly counts it, then snaps it back shut and puts the safety on, then shoulders the gun. “A friend of Lambrick’s, I guess. Tried to take a shot at Iris and me while we were leaving her place. We... I ran over.... I don't think he's gonna be a problem anymore.”

Barden looks impressed. “Good idea, getting it. C’mon. We’ve got a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

Iris takes a few shaky steps forward, following Barden and Cal as they head toward the path cutting into the woods, and Lucas pauses next to her.

“You okay?” he asks.

She wipes the welling tears from her eyes and shakes her head. “No.”

He looks down, then taps his backpack strap. Nods, then looks back up at her with a mirthless chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says. “Guess none of us are.”

In a strange way, it makes her feel better.

When she takes her next step, her leg isn’t shaking anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

They walk on the trail for what seems like miles, not talking, just breathing and, Iris guesses, taking the walk to mentally decompress. During the hike, Iris can’t help but lag behind the other three, her side aching, but less than a few hours ago. When Lucas drops back to match her pace, she appreciates his concern, but tells him not to slow himself down for her sake.

“Leave no… one behind?” he says. It’s a weak attempt to lighten the mood, but she breathes out a hollow, exhausted chuckle at it anyway.

“I’m not going to get lost,” she says. “Go ahead. Don’t worry about me.”

He nods, then speeds up to join Barden. They start talking and shake hands. Iris watches them a little until someone says, “Hey,” at her side.

She starts a bit.

“Oh. Cal,” she says, just realizing that he’d been walking next to her.

“Yeah. Been one hell of a night, hasn’t it?”

She’d been gripping the straps of her backpack for so long that her fingers had started to fall asleep. She slides them up further on the straps and keeps looking ahead.

“Hey, Iris,” Cal says, “You’re not still pissed at me, for what I did to Travis, are you?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“I mean, c’mon, I would’ve done that for Lucas _or_ you. Probably for anyone else in the group –  ’cept Amy.”

As he says that, Iris’s rib starts to throb again, almost as if it had heard Cal.

“I’m serious,” he insists, “Travis was almost done for, anyway. I was probably doing him a favor at that point.”

“That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” Iris says, suddenly fixing Cal with a sharp look. “That you could write him off so easily?”

Cal opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He lowers his head and focuses on the crunching leaves under their boots.

Finally, after a long minute of silence, Iris says slowly, “I think I would’ve done it too.”

“What?”

“If the choice had been against either Lucas or you.” She draws in a deep, shuddering sob, and says, looking up to meet his eyes again, “I would’ve chosen Travis.”

For a moment, Cal looks as though he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She offers a small smile in his direction. He returns it, running a hand through his hair and laughing a bit, probably out of relief.

“What’s a BLT?” she asks suddenly.

“Huh?” his expression changes to mild confusion.

She’s weary of the constant mantra of _Raleigh Raleigh Raleigh_ running through her mind. At this point, she’d rather talk about anything to stave away the fear. “The drink you made me. What’s in it?”

He lets out a low, surprised chuckle at that. “That would be bourbon, lemon, and tonic, ma’am. My specialty. Well, not _mine_ originally, but… My grandad taught me how to make them.”

“And,” Iris says carefully, “He’s the reason you accepted the invitation?”

Cal nods. “He’s the only family I’ve got left. My mom left when I was about eight, and my dad died when I was seventeen. Grandparents took me in, and my grandmother passed away just this year. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry,” Iris murmured.

“Yeah. Fuck cancer,” Cal said, though his tone sounded like a mix of trying to be light-hearted and bitter. He then blinked, as if he remembered who he was talking to.  “Oh, sorry.”

She laughed despite herself. “No, I’m with you there. Fuck it. Fuck cancer, and fuck the Lambricks.”

Cal’s face brightened, and the five years that had been added onto it since the game started, all faded away. “I’d drink to that!”

“We’re here,” Barden says, and they all stop. Iris suddenly notices the cabin in the clearing.

It's not too large to be an eyesore, or to make Iris think James was overcompensating or showing off. It's also not too small that she'd be worried how they would all fit inside. It's wooden, modern, and fancy enough to know that Barden had put some serious money and time into this place, but the sight of it exudes an air that is comfortably personable.

It completely suits Barden - at least, what little Iris realizes she knows about him.

“Had it built two summers ago,” he says, audibly proud. “It's got three bedrooms, running water, a stove and a whole stockroom of canned goods… I can even access a remote, untapped phone line, if I want. Got a small TV, a VCR —”

“— Wow,” Cal asks, “did you get that from a museum or something?”

The whole group laughs, at once, sounding almost foreign to Iris.

She looks around at the others as their chuckles fade away, and she can see that they, just like she, seem to realize just how _finite_ the situation has gotten.

They can’t go back home. Iris can’t use her reading lamp anymore. She can’t cook dinner for herself and Raleigh and hear him complain about it. She can’t open her mother’s compact, can’t look at the pictures of her family.

 _Looks like this is it, now,_ she thinks, and, almost as if she’d said it out loud, Lucas says, “Home sweet home.”


End file.
